Sleeper in a Clone Suit
by annanabanana
Summary: ...His eyes seemed to hold secrets, and I silently wished his hair were a true reflection of him. Beautiful, surreal, barely-tamed and begging to be released." AH, AU ExB Entry for the Tattward & Inkella contest. rated M for bad words and lemony goodness
1. Imperfectly Perfect

**Tattward & Inkella One-Shot Contest**

**Title: Sleeper in a Clone Suit**

**Your pen name: Annanabanana**

**Characters: Edward & Bella**

**Disclaimer: I own a Rosie The Riveter refrigerator magnet but not these characters. I'm willing to trade.**

**To see other entries in the Tattward & Inkella Contest, please visit the C2 page:**

www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/Tattward_and_Inkella_Contest/71624/

***

**a/n: A lot of the tat ideas in this are inspired by plans my husband and I have for our skin. I've lovingly lent them to these characters. I've posted links to pics of many of the designs in my profile. **

**My beta is the bestest! Viola Cornuta, thanks for fixing my words, cutting the crap and lending me some great lines! Hookedontwi, thanks for being my third set of eyes.**

"What?" I grumbled into my phone. My eyelids angrily protested the light flooding through my window.

"Hey, Bit, just making sure you're up," Angela was excessively chipper for ungodly-o-clock in the morning.

"Stop calling me that, and I'm not up. What the fuck time is it anyway?" I would kill her. If I were fully awake, I would have already disposed of her body. I pried my bleary eyes open, and glanced over to the alarm clock. I didn't have my contacts in, and all I could see was a bright red blob.

"Um, it's quarter to seven, and thanks again for taking my shift," she tried to distract me with gratitude, but I failed to miss the first part.

"Have you lost your fucking sense, Angela? Is it really six forty-five? Why in fuck would you _ever_ call me this early?"

"Well, you have to open the shop at eight, and I know you aren't a morning person, so I thought . . ." she trailed off quietly.

"Ang, I take approximately twenty minutes to get ready, and I live a five minute walk from the shop. How do I need an hour and fifteen minutes?" I was still bitching, but my heart wasn't in it. Angela was practically a perfect fucking human being, and she needed the morning off to take her mother to chemo for Christ's sake. Chemo; yeah, I'm an asshole in the morning.

"Sorry, Bi-, I mean, Bella. I was just worried you'd sleep through your alarm, and I didn't know how much time you needed. Shit, maybe you like to sit and drink coffee for thirty minutes before you get ready," She was too ridiculous.

"Ang," I laughed, "We work in a _coffee_ shop." She giggled, still afraid of early-morning-devil Bella. "Don't worry; I'm up. Go be with your mom."

"Thanks, Bit! See ya later." I muttered about her repeated use of my abhorrent nickname, but she had already hung up.

I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, debating the merits of more sleep and trust in my alarm. I huffed in capitulation, and stretched blindly towards my night table, fumbling for my specs. Lethargically, I dragged my ass out of bed.

Having some spare time, thanks to the chipper-fucking-chipmunk, I expended a smidge extra effort getting ready. If I had to work tired, I would do it in red lipstick. I figured out at a very young age people didn't notice my near-constant state of torpor if I hid it under makeup and hair.

I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and curled the ends perfunctorily with my curling iron. My bangs, Ang and Rose called them Bettie Page bangs, were well trained, but I combed them down for good measure before assaulting my head with hairspray. I folded up and then tied my red bandana around my head like a headband just behind my bangs, leaving the knot at the top. A quick swipe of black eyeliner, a couple coats of black mascara, Russian Red lipstick and I was done primping.

I strolled down the worn wood floors of my hallway back to my bedroom where I pulled on some slim black clam-diggers over my boy-shorts and folded the legs to just below my knee. I found a cute white halter top with black polka-dots forgotten in my closet, a nice improvement over my standard wife-beaters. I toed my feet into my haggardly low-top black Chucks without bothering to untie them. They were approaching perfection in their state of disrepair.

I tried to hold my breath as I snuck into Rose's bedroom to pinch a couple of magazines, but I couldn't avoid what smelled like a dirty prostitute's perfume and a hot, sweaty fuck. I reminded myself to tell Rose she was a huge whore when I got home; she'd be more pissed I called her huge than whore. I loved that slutty bitch.

I picked up my worn black canvas messenger bag, slung it over my shoulder and shoved the magazines inside. I rooted around for a minute, extracted my favorite $5 dollar cat-eye sunglasses and shoved them on my face. I checked the time and was pretty fucking impressed. I still had twenty-five minutes to get to the shop.

I grabbed my red cardigan, remembering how early it was, and stepped out my front door. I liked being on the street this early. Before the pavement had a chance to heat up, it still smelled wet and dirty, but it didn't turn my stomach like in the afternoon. I saw all colors embedded in what most would call gray and admired the new graffiti on the ancient vacant industrial buildings across the street. I liked the grit, the age; I liked that everything wasn't too fucking perfect.

I unlocked the shop door, smelling the cold, dank moisture from yesterday's coffee steam. I rushed towards the back room to turn off the alarm and flip on the lights. I hated being here alone in the dark, as if someone might be hiding, waiting. Stupid paranoia. Not that I'd be any safer if the lights were on. I spent fifteen minutes on prep. Just before I had to unlock the door, I turned to write the specials and my name on the board.

For half a second, I was thinking about how fantabulous Miguel was for writing them up for me last night. Then I saw the bottom of the board.

In bright white chalk, under 'spitting in your coffee today', was 'Bit,' my odious nickname. Miguel thought it was too mother-fucking funny, I'm sure. Asshat. I'd finally conceded to tolerate 'Bit' from my coworkers as long as they didn't spread it to the regulars. They were doing their passive-aggressive best to avoid complying. Teale was the only one in the shop who didn't call me 'Bit', and it was simply because I threatened to call her Sherry, her real name. I tried to browbeat Miguel with the same threat, but he didn't mind being called David so much. Teale and Miguel owned the shop and didn't care how we dressed or if our tattoos and piercings were visible. In return, I guessed I could tolerate some harassment.

I reminded myself to punch my brother the next time I saw him. I had worked here successfully for six months as Bella. No one in Seattle knew my nickname. My parents brought my stupid-ass brother Emmett to visit, and as usual, he had to fuck with my shit. He spent a total of one hour in the coffee shop while I was on shift, and suddenly everyone knew the whole retarded story behind my asinine nickname.

When my mom was pregnant with me, Emmett was three, and Mom and Dad spent almost nine months teaching him to say itty-bitty. As in, there's an itty-bitty baby in Mommy's tummy. Shock of all shocks, when I was born, the three-year-old thought Isabella sounded just like Itty-Bitty, and they never bothered to correct him. Let me repeat that for impact. My parents never fucking bothered to teach my brother my name. Instead they started calling me Itty-Bitty, too, which was quickly shortened to 'Bit'. Emmett made sure all of our friends, relatives and even my teachers knew about my nickname. I guess I should've been thankful it wasn't 'It'.

I grumbled about unprofessional shenanigans as I erased the chalk and changed the board to say 'Bella'. I walked to the old front door with the full-length glass pane, opened the shade, flipped the sign and turned the twist lock on the door handle. I never bothered to re-lock the bolt after turning the alarm off in the morning. I opened the door experimentally to make sure the lock didn't stick and let it close itself, bells jingling, as I walked back to the counter.

Withdrawal was starting to set in because I'd been up too long without coffee, so I decided to make myself a latte while I waited for my first customer. The espresso was already in my cup, and I was finishing up the milk when I heard the bells above the door jingling.

"Good morning, I'll be with you in just a sec!" I called blindly because I couldn't see over the espresso machine. I silently admonished my luck for not sparing me five minutes to inhale a fucking latte before someone walked in. I capped my cup, so I wouldn't accidentally spill it and stepped over to the counter.

_Holy-hell-in-a-hand-basket!_

Standing stiffly at the counter opposite me was the prettiest fucking thing in a dark gray suit I'd ever seen. He was all preppy and clean-cut and smelled like fucking mint and cedar with a smoky undertone. Vibrant green eyes met mine before I gave him a once over shamelessly. His shimmery hair looked as if he was locked in an ongoing epic battle with it. He had attempted, with partial success, to tame its wildness. It was the only thing about him that didn't scream annoyingly perfect, but for that reason it was fucking perfect too.

I stood and stared, completely forgetting to ask what he wanted. By the time I noticed his eyes again, they were trained on my chest. Most girls would've considered it offensive; Rose would've considered it on par with a sexy pick-up line, but I knew he wasn't being rude, at least not sexually. His eyes danced back and forth from one shoulder to the other, lingering on the bare skin under my collarbones. Well, bare probably isn't the most accurate word.

He gaped at my ink. I was used to that response from _his_ type. I had a brilliantly colorful chest piece starting at the edge of each shoulder, covering all of the skin in between. It depicted an anatomically correct heart in the center wrapped in strings extending to sparrows on either shoulder holding the strings in their beaks, and the background was filled in with pretty flowers. The flowers on my right shoulder merged into others surrounding a sugar skull covering my upper arm. They were done in the traditional Americana tattoo style; I absolutely loved them, so I ignored the stares from the squares.

His eyes slowly rolled up to my face, pausing at the sparkly stone in my Monroe before finding my eyes again. I had my I'm-tough-as-nails-and-go-fuck-yourself look prepared for his inevitable condescension or disgust, but I didn't have to use it. His gaze didn't hold any judgment.

"I'll have a large cappuccino, minimal foam, breve, and make it a double, please." Liquid hot fuck. That's what his voice sounded like. Why'd he have to be a fucking suit? At least he looked good in it. "And Bella, please don't spit in my coffee." He smiled an imperfect, lopsided smile at me. Imperfectly fucking _perfect_.

"How the fu . . . it's meant to be a joke," I said with too much rancor cause that's what I did. When I got nervous, especially around a beautiful man, I turned into Arrogant Sarcastic Bitch. I was extra bitchy because he freaked me the fuck out using my name. I always forgot that damned chalkboard.

He just stared at me, waiting. Obviously, he was more aware of my job responsibilities at this point than I was. Hastily, I grabbed the appropriate cup and picked up the china marker from the counter.

"What's your name?" I asked him neutrally, and he glanced curiously around the room. He shrugged and stated, "Edward."

Writing the name studiously, it hit me that I was a total fucking moron. There wasn't another living soul in the shop to whom I might accidentally give his coffee. I didn't need his name, and he thought I was an idiot. I hid behind the espresso machine making his order and hoping to God in heaven he wasn't a morning regular. My luck, he'd be telling Ang how retarded I was tomorrow.

I brought his coffee to him and stumbled through ringing him up. He gave me a friendly half smile as he turned to leave, and I watched his elegant back shift under the expensive fucking fabric that might as well have been a dry-clean only wall socially dividing us.

I sighed despondently after the waste of perfection wrapped in clone clothes.

A couple nights later, when I worked my next shift, he came in around eight. In a fucking suit. It was black this time, and I was coherent enough to notice the dark gray shirt and thin black tie paired underneath it. I was as bitchy as ever because, fuck, he made me nervous, but he was quietly polite. He stared down my chest piece again and ordered the exact same thing.

Instead of leaving, he sat at a table and sipped his coffee. I used the excess time to really study him. He was so buttoned-up, literally. At eight o' clock at night, he hadn't even undone the top button of his shirt behind his tie. Little details I didn't notice before started to grab my attention.

The expertly tailored suit was slimly cut, like the suits in the fifties and sixties or the styles in Europe. Okay, so his clothes definitely weren't straight out of the department store. His hair was still in revolt against the taming he inflicted on it, but his sideburns were a little too long for the average prepster haircut. His feet were mostly hidden from me because of the way he sat, but I would swear by all that's holy he was wearing shiny black military jump boots instead of normal dress shoes.

Angela walked out of the back room and noticed him sitting at a table. She quirked her eyebrow at me after catching my dazed stare in his direction.

"Cute, huh?" she whispered, nudging my ribs with her elbow.

I shrugged my shoulders; "I guess."

"Please, he's fucking gorgeous," she hissed.

"Yeah and it means fuck-all cause he's a suit," I frowned. "He probably likes Weezer." I said with exaggerated disgust. Angela giggled.

"Bit, _you_ like Weezer!" She poked me in the ribs.

"Yeah, but he probably thinks he's like super cool at the country club cause he heard of 'em first," I said in my best imitation of an air-headed bimbo.

"Bella, you're way too judgmental. Not every guy can love Koffin Kats and know every obscure Psychobilly and Punk band out there." She rolled her eyes at me.

"Fuck off, I like other stuff," I huffed and folded my arms across my chest. She laughed, and I stalked away to start the pre-closing crap.

"Hey, got a fun-filled night?" The smoky richness of his scent assaulted me before I could look up at him. I could taste his smell. Fucking flawless.

"Yeah," I snorted derisively, "I've got a really hot-ass date." I gestured toward Angela who catcalled in my direction. Fuck, I couldn't turn Arrogant Bitch off. She just launched that sarcastic shit outta my mouth before I could think straight. It was his fault; he made me slow.

I stood there, afraid Bitch would say something awful, and watched him. He gave me a small smirk, and fuck me if I didn't just come a little in my underoos. I was now warring with a completely new deviant urge.

There was a Feral Fucking Wildcat in my body trying to scrabble decorously, _I'm sure_, across the counter and lick his jaw while humping his leg. I wondered if he'd notice. Arrogant Sarcastic Bitch meet Feral Fucking Wildcat. Great, I could snark him to death or dry hump him to death, and he was a fucking square who liked Weezer.

He gave Ang a small, friendly wave good bye, turned and left the shop. Angela glared at me in a highly unfriendly manner.

"What?"

"Did you have to be such a weird bitch to him? He may be a _'suit'_," she made fucking air quotes with her fingers, "but I think he looks pretty hot in that suit. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Bit, he could be a great guy, or just a great fuck. Don't tell me he wouldn't be a nice _hard_ rain for _your_ dry spell."

I felt my cheeks heat up and threw a hand towel at her. "You made me fucking blush, Ang! Rose would be so proud of her little ho-in-training." Rose had been trying to force Angela bodily out of her shell.

Weeks passed in a similar pattern. Every night I worked, he showed up between six thirty and eight. He ordered the same thing and sat at a table, lingering over his coffee. By now I was pretty positive I'd seen all of his suits, not like I was keeping a mental fucking catalogue or anything. They were all he ever wore. The man must've been working his ass off.

I kept my conversation to a minimum cause I couldn't trust Arrogant Sarcastic Bitch any more than Feral Fucking Wildcat; they were both out to ruin me. I couldn't help staring at him continuously. When he wasn't looking at me, I eye-fucked him like a champ, like an ocular fucking porn star. Sometimes my overactive imagination would run away from me, and I would swear he stared at me, my tattoos, with less-than-chaste intentions. Then, the moment was gone and I had to mentally slap myself for hallucinating. Even if he did think about it, I'm sure it was for the same reason as all the other guys like him I'd encountered. It had been my experience, guys like him wanted to fuck girls like me to fulfill a fantasy. Something they could brag about at the sports bar over nasty, watery beer with their old frat cronies. I was not down with that shit. I wasn't interested in being a sideshow attraction on a deviance for dabbler's checklist.

I would watch him wistfully. Annoyed that he was harboring a fucking yuppie chrysalis about to unfurl. He was one overbearing SUV lease away from a McMansion in a silk panty subdivision with fifteen hundred more square feet than he needed, and a lawn he only noticed when the illegal immigrant worker forgot to mow it. One horridly ordinary haircut separated him from Crocs with socks, a Polo shirt in some hideous spring color and pleated khaki shorts. Pleated. _Fucking._ Khaki. Shorts. A few too many barbeques and Super Bowl parties would have him married to a mindless bleach blonde bimbo with fake nails, fake tits and a fake tan. What a fucking waste. I had to stop thinking about licking him; it wasn't healthy for my psyche or my self-righteous assuredness that I was, in fact, a better human being than the boors, frat boys and trophy wives of the world.

Resolved I wasn't allowed to lick him, not even in my head, I found myself adding an extra fifteen minutes to my primping routine on the days I worked. _Way to go with the whole conviction thing, Bella._ People fucking noticed. Everyone at work would ask me if I had plans or tell me I looked nice, even customers. I would've really fucking appreciated them informing me I looked like shit previously, but mostly I was embarrassed to be making the effort.

One of the nights Edward came in, I was closing with Wills, typically an opener. Wills was the cutest little stand-up bass player in a rockabilly band, and I would have had a crush on him six months ago if he weren't so timid. As it was, we got on spectacularly and sometimes went to shows together. Wills was outside dumping the garbage when Edward walked in. I made his coffee nervously with as little interaction as possible. He sat at his usual table to sip his cappuccino and render me useless for half an hour.

Imagine my alarmed dismay when Wills walked in past Edward, did a double take, gave him a huge-ass grin and sat right the fuck down at his table. They each reached out and shook hands. Wills touched him! This was so horribly unfair. I yearned to touch him in all of his bourgeois glory. I wanted to lick the incongruously banal glaze surrounding his preternatural beauty away from his skin. Surely, my acid tongue was good for something. This was why I wasn't allowed to touch him. The risk of licking was way too high. I wondered if Wills wanted to lick him? Or Ang? I _knew_ Rose would want to.

I watched ardently, sighing entirely too fucking often, as he and Wills had an animated conversation. I couldn't hear them, but I was desperate to know what they said. Both of them surreptitiously glanced at me in regular intervals throughout their discussion. A few times, I caught his verdant eyes, and our gazes locked for a beat longer than normal; I got lost in the rich green depths. After about ten minutes, my demeanor jealously shifted to a surly state of bitch.

"Wills. I need you at the counter, so I can go clean up in the back," I snapped across the distance. Hello, Arrogant Sarcastic Bitch. I didn't need him behind the counter. We were a very casual shop. He could have easily watched the store from his entirely too comfortable perch a foot away from liquid sex in a lemming suit. At that particular moment, I was so glad Wills was a timid pushover.

"Sure, B...Bella," he stammered over my nickname as he stood up. I heard him say, "See ya later, Edward," quietly, familiarly, and I ground my teeth together in aggravation. Why was everyone so fucking friendly with the corporate drone?

_And why wasn't he friendly with me?_ Oh, yeah, that would be my awkward inability to say two words without snapping at him. I'm still gonna blame it on him for staring at my tattoos and allowing himself to be distressingly commonplace.

He gave me a warm smile as he stood up to leave, holding my full attention with his stare, and I managed to smile genuinely back at him without hurting myself. Wills avoided me the rest of the night, so I didn't get to grill him about Edward.

Almost exactly two months after my first encounter with Edward, Angela watched me curiously, her head tilted towards her right shoulder. I was devotedly nibbling the Chick-Flick-Cherry I stole from Rose off of my ruined fingernails.

"Are you sure you don't mind closing alone, Bit?" She had a concerned look on her face. "You seem distracted, and it's pretty dark and creepy in this neighborhood at night. I don't want you to have to walk home alone," she scowled.

"Ang, this is _my_ neighborhood. Shit, this is _your_ neighborhood," I laughed. "How do you think I get groceries? What do you think I do when I close with someone else? You're the only one who lives close enough for us to walk together."

"Please," she snorted, "I know none of the guys will just let you walk off alone. They follow your stubborn ass in their cars til you get to your loft." She raised her eyebrows as if to say 'tell me I'm wrong'.

"I'll be fine. It's only two hours. End of discussion," I pointed at her severely. She sighed and walked into the back room.

When she reappeared, she was loaded down with her school bag, purse and jacket. "Just call me if anything comes up. I can be back in five," she promised.

"'Kay, have fun with the group project!" I squeaked with false enthusiasm. She stuck her tongue out at me as she passed. "That's not nice," I scolded teasingly as she slipped out of the door, bells jingling.

The shop felt desolate once Angela was gone. I expended as much time as possible wiping down the tables, sweeping the floor and cleaning the glass case at the counter.

I started to make absolutely trifling observations through my bored haze. The turquoise paint on the door was my favorite color. The daisies on the tables were starting to wilt. I noticed the little bit of nail polish I hadn't ingested yet perfectly matched the red bra under my beater. If I leaned on the stool just right, I could rock it back and forth with minimal effort. I challenged myself to recall from memory all the brands of beer caps on my belt; I drank each bottle myself before riveting the small metal circles to black leather. If I squinted just right, I could see Edward sitting at his table. _Fuck._ I had no idea where that shit came from.

Dubiously, I looked at the clock. Huh. It was after eight. No Edward. I instantly felt invisible coils bind around my chest, air catching in my lungs. Where was Edward?

What the fuck? Why did I feel rejected? Why did I fucking care where in hell he was?

_But . . . where was he?_

I was thoroughly flummoxed by the uncertainty running fucking apeshit rampant in my own head. I sat stunned on the stool. I think I stopped rocking. I checked the time every two to five minutes, and for the first twenty or so, I repeatedly glanced at the window in the door, waiting for him.

After the first twenty minutes, I got exceptionally aggravated with myself. I didn't like him. _He's a suit, a drone, a lemming, a square_ . . .I played a deliberate loop in my head while my traitorous subconscious interrupted me with his fathomless dark jade eyes, his luminous skin tautened across the edges of his jaw, his imperfectly fucking perfect crooked smile and tempestuous bronze hair. His eyes seemed to hold secrets, and I silently wished his hair were a true reflection of him. Beautiful, surreal, barely-tamed and begging to be released.

My head shook slightly as a shudder vibrated my frame. I couldn't let myself indulge in imaginary men. I was already too affected by his presence or fucking lack thereof.

I checked the clock again, and with ten minutes til close, I decided to go ahead and lock up early. I was tired and frustrated, and I hadn't seen another human being in two hours. I sauntered to the door, turning first the lock on the knob and then the bolt. I fidgeted around behind the counter for a couple minutes, filled out the bank deposit bag and loaded a bus bin with all of the utensils and supplies I needed to wash and sterilize. I turned back to count out the cash till, and I jerked sharply at a knock.

With the brightness in the shop and the inky black outside, I could barely tell a man stood beyond the window. I wasn't sure if I wanted to let him in. Technically, I was open for another few minutes, but I didn't wanna be here any fucking longer. The faith my bosses had in me seeped into my thoughts like a heavy wool blanket of guilt, and I heaved a disgruntled sigh as I slogged to the door.

As I moved closer, I noticed shimmery, suspiciously familiar hair. That couldn't be right. I rolled my eyes down the man's frame, and I could barely make out his clothes. He was wearing an old-fashioned, long sleeved, solid olive drab BDU shirt as a jacket over a plain black T. His dark jeans were slimly bootcut and ended in a cuff resting atop a dark shoe. His build looked familiar. Huh.

I unlocked the door, eyes trained on the locks, and pulled it open for him to enter. He moved past me silently, and I re-locked the lock on the door handle; I wanted to make sure no one else could come in but he could get out without me having to walk him to the door. I followed him to the counter, and I could fucking swear I'd seen those muscles shifting before. I circled the counter and stopped in front of him. Edward. Holy Shit. He came.

I couldn't decide what to be most excited about first. He was here. He was wearing human clothes. He was _fucking_ here in human clothes!

"Bella, can I still order?" he looked . . . well, fucking sweet as hell. I knew if I told him to leave, he would without complaint.

"Edward, I would have just watched you through the door and flipped you off if I didn't feel like letting you in." What the fuck was wrong with me? Why with The Bitch? I sighed, "Usual?"

"Please, Bella." He drew my name out in a breath, and I wished he'd stop. I'd never loved my name like I loved it in his beautiful mouth. I nodded cause there was no way in heaven, hell or purgatory I could say anything remotely decent.

When I finished making his cappuccino, he took it silently and went to sit down. His hair was much less restrained, and it seemed to naturally form itself into a disheveled pompadour. I could see the thin cotton of his T-shirt stretched across his muscled chest. His suits had always hinted at a sublime body, but I'd never been able to make out the definition between his muscles before. The clothes were simple, but the military flair kept my jaw closer to my fucking chest than to my upper lip. I noticed his studded belt and a large belt buckle, though I couldn't tell what it was.

I eye-fucked him flagrantly as my imagination got in the car and drove the fuck away from me at top speed. I could see us living in sin in a love-tastic warehouse loft with our so-fugly-he's-cute three-legged rescued mutt. _Sigh. _Pretty pictures danced through my head while I watched him. He looked at me occasionally and smiled. Imperfectly fucking perfect.

My uterus started whispering with my imagination. It wanted to have his pretty little bastard babies, give them tiny mohawks, dress them in miniature Misfits T-shirts and those adorable little baby-sized Chucks. My fucking uterus wanted to purchase baby-sized Chucks. That was my sobering thought. It brought my imagination speeding back to reality, wrapping around a tree in my front yard like an asshole drunk driver.

_Lemming. Drone. Square. Clone. Weezer. Suits. Jump boots . . . mmm . . . No, Bella. Sideshow attraction._ With those thoughts my shoulders fell, and I had to get out of his line of sight.

"Edward, I'm gonna start cleaning up in the back room, so just let yourself out when you're done." I struggled for neutrality, but even I could hear the severe edge in my voice. He looked at me with interest. Beautiful green eyes. What a fucking waste.

"If you want me to go ahead and leave I can, Bella." Please stop saying my fucking name.

"It's fine for you to stay. The door will open from this side, but the lock on the handle is locked. Just don't steal the cash drawer. I'd never be able to explain that one away, and no one who works here would believe _you_ took it." I tried to tease him, but my tone wouldn't follow suit.

I gave up trying to be friendly and walked to the back with my bus bin. Dropping it into the sink, I turned on the hot tap, so I could soak the contents. As I stood there with soapy hands, I wanted to punch myself. I couldn't believe I had a crush on a businessman. I knew it wouldn't end well. No matter how adorable he looked tonight, he still wore fucking impeccable suits every other day; I wasn't his type.

I already felt epic disappointment because he hadn't flirted with me or asked me out yet. Not that I thought it was highly fucking likely. I couldn't honestly say I would've behaved any differently if I had a crush on a more acceptable target either. Ang wasn't kidding about my dry spell, more like an endless wasteland. I know it means I don't deserve the Rosie the Riveter magnet on my fridge or my right to vote, but I was oddly prosaic in my approach to men. I was beginning to think I was actually incapable of making the first move. And he sure as fuck wasn't moving. Not that I wanted him to.

_Who the fuck was I kidding?_

I heard the quick peal of bells as the door was yanked open, followed by the slower tinkling as it slid closed. I braced my hands on the rounded edge of the industrial stainless steel sink as my shoulders fell. Staring blindly at the faucet, my eyes slid out of focus. A slight ache settled in my chest, and I resented thinking about him. I felt a stronger pressure around my ribs and wondered why I was having such a strong physical reaction.

A split second before I recognized the heat against my back for what it was, my eyes dropped to the sink. At the same time, I saw a heavily tattooed arm around my ribcage and felt a warm body press against me. My brain froze.

I had always believed I would handle a situation like this one well, but I hadn't even managed to scream. I hadn't fucking gurgled. But I heard the bells. I heard them open and close. I didn't hear them again. Did I? No, definitely not. Definitely? Maybe someone came in as Edward left. Maybe the door didn't close all the way . . . no, no bells. I couldn't take my eyes off the arm; I'd never seen the tats before. My body was rigid with fear, and then I heard it. Whispering in my ear.

"I know I shouldn't be doing this," Oh my mother-fucking-God-in-Heaven. Edward. I was surprised I hadn't recognized his scent already. "I've waited two fucking months for some sort of sign from you that you might be interested, and you're such a bitch to me. Maybe I shouldn't be here, but I'm pretty sure you've been eye-fucking me hard."

A soft girly sound snuck out with my breath at his words, and I melted into the heat he wrapped around me.

"What, Bella, no acerbic comments? I'm disappointed. Don't worry, I've been eye-fucking you too. I'm just infinitely better at hiding it." He rasped, his hot breath on my neck sending shivers across my skin as his nose skimmed down. I heard every word he said, but all I could focus on was the arm encasing my torso. Above the wrist, I couldn't see a millimeter of bare skin; everything was ink. Without words, I grabbed the arm and turned to face him.

I studied the images running up and around his arm, emerging from swirling flames and smoke. Liquor bottles, a pack of Luckies, a five card hand, some poker chips . . . the rest of the tattoo disappeared into his shirt, and before I registered what I was doing, I pushed the cloth up his arm. The T-shirt was fitted and his arms were, fuck me, deliciously muscular; I couldn't force the material very far.

Edward looked at my face and touched the center of my bottom lip with his index finger. He smiled slyly, crossed his arms and grabbed the cloth at his sides, yanking it over his head. Fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fucking fuck.

I inhaled an embarrassingly loud breath. His body was absolute fucking muscular perfection, and he had more ink. _Lots_ more. I stood gaping at him for a moment until I heard a quiet chuckle escape his throat.

I followed the swirls of fire up his arm to see a guitar and the front end of a Ford fucking Fairlane with a pin-up poured across the hood emerging from the flames. I couldn't help but notice the pin-up girl was a brunette with short bangs and brown eyes. _My_ brown eyes continued up to the top of his arm where a giant red devil's head replete with horns was spewing all of the items forth in a breath of black, red and orange smoke and flames. It was the sickest fucking collage sleeve I'd ever seen, and it was on _him_.

My focus drifted to study the two huge, stylized ravens stretched diagonally from his shoulders across his pecs. They looked so graceful with their wings spread, I didn't notice at first that they were falling. Saliva pooled in my mouth with my increasing need to lick the fuck out of him. Five unfamiliar words were inked between the birds going down his sternum; _Huginn og muninn er død_. For a moment my curiosity distracted me, and then I noticed the nipple rings. Oh dear Lord in Heaven. This man was gonna fucking kill me. Dead.

I tried to divert my attention from his body, but my eyes were glued. His left arm was bare, but I could see ink peeking out from his ribs. I pulled him roughly, forcing him to turn, so I could see more of him. Under his arm was a large blue and yellow crest, probably his family's. Not that I even knew his last name. He continued to revolve slowly for me to devour his body, his art. He stopped with his back facing me. A reverent breath of appreciation pushed out of my lungs. His back alone was beautiful. The tattoo covering most if it served to make it fucking magnificent.

He had an antique map of the world spanning from side to side, ending where his lower back began. The detail was amazing; fucking breathtaking. There were little embellishments on certain countries and surrounding the double circle shape of the design. My attention drifted down the muscles along his backbone, partially drawn by the tattoo, mostly by his body. I reached out a finger and traced it lightly down his spine, feeling goose bumps rise on his skin. I stopped just below a banner framing the bottom of the world imbedded in his skin. These words were in English. _I am a part of all that I have met._

"Tennyson? _Really?_" I blurted in disbelief. Rudely, I might add. In an instant he spun around to face me, gripping my upper arms tightly. He leaned forward, and his warm exhalations heated my lips.

"There's my girl. You have no idea what I wanna do to you when you make smart-ass comments like that. For two months, I've imagined bending you over the counter every time you spoke to me." He snarled into my mouth just before his lips met mine. I moaned at his admission while his tongue aggressively searched mine out. His hands left my arms to wrap around my ribs, rubbing circles over my thin cotton shirt.

Gasping harshly, he released my mouth only to return his to my skin. He ghosted kisses down my neck, trailing his lips across my collarbone. His tongue darted out to trace the patterns, and he moved slowly from one side to the other in supplication. I sighed desperately. I needed him everywhere, and, fuck, I wanted him to bend me over. I watched his perfect face moving worshipfully over my colorful skin. Who fucking knew? I decided to give him more incentive.

"You think those are the only ones I have?" It was a challenge, a fucking invitation. His eyes cut to my face, burning under dark lashes. A low rough sound from his chest sent vibrations through me as his mouth devoured mine again. Warm strong fingers snuck under my shirt and wasted no time pulling it over my head. A loud groan heaved from his chest when he saw my red lace bra, and his hands searched my tingling skin as he struggled to touch as much of me as he could at one time.

I tilted my head down, darted my tongue out and drew a lazy circle around his left nipple. A breathed "fuck" escaped him as I sucked the hard steel ring and soft pink flesh into my mouth. I enjoyed the contrast of textures as I flicked the tip of his hardened nipple. Releasing it with a lick, I moved to repeat myself on his other. He grumbled deeply and slid his hands down my back to grip my ass, pulling me slightly off my feet.

An expectant tension formed in my abdomen, hips and thighs as his hands kneaded my muscles. His hips rocked into me forcefully, and a very hard, very fucking large cock pressed into my stomach. At the massive evidence of his arousal, I bit down playfully on his nipple with a quiet squeak. I was rewarded with a loud growl as his fingers hunted up my back to unhook my bra, and I reached hungrily for his belt buckle.

I fingered the large, cold piece of metal before looking down to see what it was. It had brass knuckles with wings and I'm pretty sure I could feel a bottle opener on the back. I giggled as I popped the buckle open. One swift tug, and the studded leather obediently followed the buckle. I let it fall to the ground and raked my eyes down past his waist. Without the belt, his pants dipped lower than before, revealing a sensually muscular V giving me directions like a fucking airplane runway. I couldn't resist the urge to lick his rippling torso; my mouth discovered the salty, minty, smoky flavor seeping from his skin. As my tongue traveled down his beautiful abdomen, the edge of his black boxer briefs peeked out above his waistband and taunted me. They were wrapped all the fuck up around what I wanted. Hastily, I reached for the button on his jeans, my fingers tucking under the fabric and tingling against his skin.

"Uh, uh, uhhh, Bella." His hands smoothed over my arms and quickly disengaged me from the zippered entrance to Candy Land. Needless to say, I leveled my most disgruntled, most devastating pout at him. I wasn't feigning; I fucking wanted his shit. He delivered his lopsided smile back and slowly started to pull the lacy red bra straps down my arms. I whined at his lethargic pace, and tilted my head up, laced my fingers into his hair and sucked his bottom lip between my own. I dissolved in the pleasure of his tongue moving with mine.

While we kissed, he dropped my bra, and his fingers returned cravingly to my newly exposed flesh. He caressed lightly over my breasts, fingers coaxing shivers from my skin. As our kisses deepened, so did the urgency of his touch. His fingertips pinched, pulled and teased my nipples causing the tender pink skin to pucker and my breaths to pant out between our lips.

I slid my hands up his arms, delighting in the juxtaposition of supple, velvety skin stretched over solid, toned muscles. I pushed my fingertips fiercely into the abundantly thick muscles just below his shoulders before raking my nails down his stone chest. I paused at the steel in his nipples to brush, flick, tug. His response was better than I ever fucking hoped as he palmed my breasts roughly, and breathed indecipherable words into my mouth. He kissed down my chin and over my jaw, licked lightly along the column of my neck and swirled his tongue in the hollow at the base of my throat. His mouth emblazoned a trail of lingering kisses down to my breasts, and he lapped at my nipple before sucking it in between his lips. He took turns massaging and teasing with his hands and his mouth.

Eventually, he restarted the trail down towards my navel, licking and kissing the sensitive skin of my belly. His hands came up to my belt and slowly unlatched the buckle while his mouth remained fixed in motion to my skin. I felt him fingering the raised metal caps curiously as he pulled the leather out of my belt loops. It was quickly forgotten on the floor once freed from my body, and his hands darted back to the button of my skinny black pants.

"Uh, uh, uhhh, Edward," I scolded, pulling his urgent fingers from the fabric. He had such a frantically adorable look of desperation on his face, I almost fucking let him resume his task. Almost.

I released his hands with a silent order to behave. For now. I reestablished my fingers in his waistband and unbuttoned his jeans. Slowly, I pulled the zipper tab down, making sure to press my fingers into his obviously straining erection. I peered up from under my eyelashes and saw his stunned face. His throat undulated with an ebullient swallow.

I pulled his jeans down his hips slightly farther and let the front fall open. I didn't bother trying to take them off because I was too impatient to free his feet from twelve-holed jump boots. And the thought of him fucking me in black leather boots added more heat and moisture to the area between my legs. I tucked my index fingers into the cloth wrapped elastic waist of his underwear. I moved the fabric over his smooth ass before carefully sliding it down over his mammoth fucking cock. For a split second, my current intentions seemed insane, impossible, as I took in the full-on-unrestrained-hallelujah-praise-the-Lord-and-fuck-me-pure-in-a-sacristy girth of Edward's erection. I am so going to hell. Then, my fears dissolved; I wanted it, and if I _were_ going to Hell, surely Lucy would help a girl out with her debauched desires.

Steadying myself with both hands curved firmly around his hips, I melted down to the floor. My hand darted forward to wrap around his abundant cock, and I rolled my gaze up towards his face. His features were, all at once, surprised, torn, desirous. I gripped him tighter, and curled my other hand around him. His breaths were scratchy and very audible and fueled the intense throb between my legs as I slipped my tongue between my lips to lap gently at the soft skin at the tip. A small amount of moisture flavored my mouth with his salty muskiness, and a low moan hovered in my throat. I slid my mouth further down his shaft. I was mentally preparing to keep my throat relaxed because he could definitely perform a fucking esophageal examination with his dick. I worked my way down and finally stopped very close to his pubic bone. I held my position, but my cheeks tightened as I sucked hard around him.

"Ung, Bella." His hands flew to my head, fingers intertwining with my hair. I sucked him in earnest. Swirling my tongue around his turgid length, I sealed my lips to his skin and slid back and forth over him. He tightened his grip in my hair encouragingly. I gripped the base of his cock firmly, pumping in time with my mouth, while I slid my other hand down to fondle, caress and massage his balls. After a moment, Edward's fingers stopped their gentle push towards my mouth and began tugging lightly at my hair. I got the idea and stopped pumping, but I sucked until he pulled out of my mouth. I peeked up at him feeling slightly embarrassed. I didn't know what the fuck I did wrong.

"Not like this, baby." He hoisted me up, kissing me reverently. He kissed his way down my neck and out along my shoulder. When he reached the end, he kissed and ghosted over my shoulder to my back. His hands moved me in a slow circle as his mouth made a path across my upper back from one shoulder to the other. Warm hands slid up my torso to curl fingers over my breasts, and his body pressed into my back. Slowly his fingers traced over my ribs and down my abdomen, stopping at the button to my pants. He bit and sucked along my shoulder and neck as he undid the zipper. He slipped his hands inside the fabric, rubbing and feeling my pelvic bone, hips and thighs.

"Mmmm . . . Edward . . ." I hummed throatily. He pushed the pants further down my legs, revealing my red lace boyshorts, and his fingers quickly found their way underneath the thin material. He continued to massage and palm my hips and thighs as his fingers brushed closer to where I wanted him. One hand moved back up my body to fondle my breasts while the other finally insinuated itself against my wet warmth. Heated air hissed over my shoulder as he discovered silky smooth skin, and I decided to provide him with more motivation.

"I thought you said something about bending me the fuck over." My tone goaded as much as my words. With a violent exhalation and an aggressive bite to my shoulder, he moved me a couple steps forward, tugged my undies down my legs and pushed on my upper back til I was bent over the break table. His rock-hard cock brushed against my ass as he ran his fingers over my back. One of his hands slipped down over my backside and along the inside of my thigh. Tentatively, his fingers brushed my lips before sliding along my opening and up to my clit. He stroked my sensitive spot with one hand while the fingers of his other prayed devoutly across the compass rose tattooed on my back. I knew he'd love it after I saw his map, and it turned me on even more. He continued to tease the wetness between my legs, coaxing mewls, sighs, profanities from my tongue while his fingers danced down to my ribs and traced the anchor and mermaid on my side. The way he touched my tattoos felt almost as sensual as the way he worked me with his hand, and a tight, muscular knotting started in my lower abdomen. Keeping his hands on my body, I felt him lean down to press his lips to the belt of nautical stars inked low around my hips. His mouth moved from star to star as he whispered, "So warm, so wet," burning heat and desire into my skin. Finally, I couldn't wait.

"Oh, Edward . . . please." The desperate, husky whisper begged from my lips as I thrust my hips back into his bare cock, feeling the soft skin against mine. Both of his hands swiftly found new purchase on my hips, and he bent over again to kiss the sensitive skin between my shoulder blades. I tilted my cheek into the cool linoleum and gripped the edges tighter with my fingers. A long, hitched sigh left my body as he pressed forward into me. He pushed all the way into me and stopped. Obviously, he understood his enormity. After a moment of shock at never, ever feeling so much at once, I longed to feel more. I moaned as I pushed back, grinding my ass against his hips. He grunted loudly, gripped me harder and lost his shit.

He fucked me with complete abandon, and he felt better than any-fucking-thing I had ever experienced or imagined. His fingers dug into my hips as he thrust forcefully into me over and over. The noises escaping him fueled the fire burning between my legs, and I got lost in sensation and sound.

"Uhhhng . . . Bella . . . so fucking beautiful . . ." His hand came up to stroke my back and slid under me to travel down my belly. He leaned forward slightly to accommodate his reach between my legs and heat radiated off of him into my back. His fingers explored my pussy, finding where we were moving together before sliding up to stroke my clit in time with his thrusts.

"OhmyfuckingGod . . . Edward . . . ummm . . . ahhh . . ." I was so close, and the increase in his speed told me he was too. Somehow, he managed to fuck me harder, and the loudest noise I had ever made during sex escaped my mouth as all of my muscles froze at once, shivering violently all the while. I stayed tensed with my orgasm, his fingers continuing to swirl circles over my clit, as he pumped into me roughly. A moment later, his hands grabbed my hips again, and he pulled me back into him as he thrust forward. My own orgasmic high started to dissolve through my limbs, and his cock throbbed, his release spilling into me.

"Fuck, Bella," fell quietly from his lips and his head dipped down to scatter soft kisses across my back and shoulders. After a prolonged moment, Edward pulled out and stepped back, helping me stand up. I pulled up my pants, fastening them quickly, before turning around. Edward had already buttoned his jeans, and his hands reached out to my face. He leaned in, wrapped his arms around my shoulders and gently kissed my lips, whispering my name. Then, he leaned back and tilted his head down to look into my eyes.

"I guess I should let you finish up here, so you can get home," he stated. I knew he had to leave even though I wanted to set up fucking residence in the back room and hold him hostage forever. I nodded silently at him, reciprocating a clear even gaze despite the raging anarchy inside my skull.

He broke our embrace and put on the rest of his clothes. I mimicked him and returned to the sink. I stared into the bin of murky water. My brain felt fucking murky. I was full of postcoital delight, but . . .

"Good night, Bella. I'll just let myself out." I heard his feet shift in place before his boots announced his retreat against the cement. I wanted to see his face again. I didn't know what to say, and somehow "May I have your babies?" seemed ina-fucking-ppropriate. I whirled without thinking and blurted.

"Edward?" His eyes found mine. So fucking beautiful. "I'm closing alone tomorrow night, too." Yeah, fucking blurted alright. He leveled me an imperfect little smile, pausing.

"I know," he smirked, one of his eyebrows peaking above his gorgeous green eye, and walked out of the back room. Hoh-lee fuck. Did he just say? No fucking way.

I spent the rest of the night anxious and flabbergasted. I ran every word he uttered through my head in a loop for psychotic over-analysis like a fucking loon.

By my shift the next afternoon, my brain had settled down. While it was still playing him on a loop, it wasn't the dialogue. I walked into the back room to drop my stuff, and saw Ang sitting at the break table with her lunch. I let out a loud giggle-snort at how strange it all seemed. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Edward fucked me where Angela was eating chips. Damn, I really should have wiped that shit down. Sorry, Ang.

A large swell of anticipation inflated in my chest. I felt like I was constantly holding my breath. What if I never saw him again? I couldn't believe I didn't ask for his phone number or last name.

Around seven forty-five, I started to get nervous. Was he gonna show late like yesterday, or did this mean he wasn't coming at all?

When he walked in at eight thirty, I was a complete fucking wreck.

I almost fainted when I saw what he was wearing. He had on a tight black beater, his huge belt buckle, very fitted, cuffed dark jeans and his boots. His hair looked more uncooperative than ever in a high, disheveled pompadour. He _was_ his hair, wild and barely contained.

"Hi, Bella," Say it again. Say my name again and a-fucking-gain. "Usual, please."

"Fucking sleeper," I exhaled unintentionally under my breath.

"Wh-what?" He laughed out. Shit, now I had to explain my retarded thoughts.

"You walk among them undetected, and they never know you're there."

"You make it sound like they're zombies," he smiled at me incredulously. I gave him a duh-cause-they-are look.

"Okay, you may be partially correct. I'm in advertising design, and I find it easier to remove some judgment from the equation. Besides, I hate answering questions when boring people discover I'm _deviant_." He teased with a nefarious look. I wanted him to stay here for fucking ever.

"What's your last name?" I demanded.

"Masen. Do you want my phone number?"

"Maybe later," I responded shyly. Like he didn't have his devious way with me yesterday.

He sat at his table and sipped coffee. I finished moving about the business of cleaning up and closing the shop. After I locked the door, I glanced at him quickly, hoping he might give me a repeat of last night. I busied myself in the back room and waited. He stayed at his table. Finally, with nothing left to do, I walked back to let Edward out. He gave me a disappointed look.

"I have to set the alarm." I explained and reached up to smooth his knitted brow, fingers tingling on contact.

"Oh. Okay." Oh. My. Fucking. God. How cute.

I was half afraid he would be gone when I got back to the front, so I rushed through setting the alarm. My fears were unnecessary cause there he stood outside the door. Fucking delicious. I looked at him curiously.

When he didn't say anything, I asked tentatively, "So-o . . . what are we doing?" It felt both good and awkward to say _we_. Reaching out nervously towards his shoulder, I slipped my fingers under the edge of his beater. I smoothed the fabric down with my thumb as my knuckles grazed the wing of the inky black bird on his warm skin. The tiny touch made electricity thrum through my hand.

Edward lifted his hand to my elbow and slid his palm up my arm to rest on my opposite shoulder. "Well, Bit," he started, delicately tracing the sparrow under his thumb and sending more currents networking across my skin.

"Excuse me?" I questioned, staring at him shocked, until I pieced some details together. "So, Angela told you my schedule, my nickname . . . what else?"

"Wouldn't you like to know? Wills slipped on the nickname, so don't blame Ang for that."

I decided to let it drop because, truly, he could call me what-the-fuck-ever he wanted as long as he fucked me again. And again.

"So, _what_ are we doing?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly. He blinded me with a beatific, glorious smile.

"Well, Bit, we're starting the rest of our lives together cause I plan on keeping you. Maybe now I can stop drinking coffee at night."


	2. Glossy, Ruby Tease

**a/n: Soooo, this is the beginning of a continuation for this oneshot. See you at the bottom for proper rambling.**

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And when I told her I wanted to keep her, the look Bella returned was priceless, gut-punching, fucking _stunning_. I reached for her warm little hand, everything about her was so damn warm, and pulled her along. Every time I glanced at her face, I got the same confusing stare in return; I was starting to wonder what could possibly be going on in her head. When we reached the edge of the sidewalk, about to cross the street, she grabbed my attention by taking back her hand.

I turned to face her, and the look she returned was priceless, gut-punching, fucking _frightening_. Her hands were fisted against her hips, her eyes hard and squinty, her sexy high-heeled foot was tapping anxiously, violently. Afraid to say, well, any-fucking-thing which might get me in trouble, I worked so hard not to smirk at how adorable she was when she was mad; it wasn't intentional her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes flashed.

Running through all of the possibilities, I couldn't figure out what I might have done wrong. All I'd wanted when I saw her tonight was to drag her into the backroom, push her against something hard and fuck her with more passion and heat than the night before. But I hadn't. She needed to know I wasn't the kind of guy who was just after a fuck, and I hadn't given her any reason to think otherwise. So, with every muscle tearing toward her, I kept my ass in that uncomfortable chair and waited, thankful every fucking minute for the smell of coffee camouflaging her scent. If I could have smelled her clearly, we would still be in that back room, not exchanging cryptic glares on the damn street corner. Watching her eyelashes shutter open and closed sharply, I started to convince myself she was speaking in Morse Code; she sure as hell wasn't speaking Edward.

And then I was distracted by her huge, gorgeous brown eyes, glaring at me, and I diverted my attention to something which couldn't glare back. Her mouth, gloss and red and sex. And that was probably the worst decision I'd made all night. I should have followed my first instinct and fucked her. She'd seemed to like that last time, and now, with my More Talking, Less Fucking plan, she was clearly unhappy.

"What makes you think I'm someone to be kept?" She looked pissed, and _God_, that tone. What _exactly_ was the legal penalty for fucking someone against a brick wall on a street corner?

And how was it possible she didn't mind me attacking her at her place of employment before she knew my last name, but she got mad because I told her I wanted her?

I wasn't sure if I should be happy or hurt. I settled on appropriately apologetic, though I wasn't completely sure why.

"Shit, Bella, I didn't mean it like that."

"Oh, _no_?" and there was that bitchy fucking eyebrow. A sticky, thirsty haze clouded my eyes as I stepped toward her. She instinctively stepped away, and I couldn't help the surge of desire telling me to follow, pursue.

Two steps back, and I was pressed against her, she against cold brick. Everything about her was so damn warm, and the challenge on her face was an open invitation. Her lips, gloss and red and sex. _Fuck_. If I was planning to take her anywhere besides my car, my stairs, my bed, I wouldn't be responsible for making her look like a mess. I skimmed my nose down her forehead and along her nose. My lips hovered over hers for a long moment, sweet breath contrasting angry twist, and her eyes flashed when she realized I wasn't going to kiss her. I smirked and dragged my nose out along her cheek and across her jaw. I took a deep breath and smelled nothing of roasted coffee, steamy milk; she was sweet and spicy, cardamom and clove, cinnamon, ginger and brown sugar, and I wouldn't be responsible for making her look like a mess. I wouldn't, but my lips were against her skin.

My teeth nipped at her throat, my tongue tasting. She exhaled into my hair, and her hands gripped my shoulders, half pushing, half pulling, and so warm.

"Edward . . ." it was a warning, a request and a question all at once. I stepped back to distance myself from her, my lips the last to relinquish their hold.

"I would like to take you somewhere, but of course, what you do is completely up to you; I wouldn't want to diminish your independence or make any assumptions." I smiled with that smile I knew was too seductive for my own good; that smile that, most of my adult life, had accidentally garnered attention from women which I didn't typically want. I knew the provocation behind it.

"Where?" she growled.

"_Just_, come on." I tugged her hand when I was sure she would come. Despite her petulant pout, she giggled infectiously, and _fuck_. I _wouldn't_ be responsible for making her look like a mess. I was starting to have resentful feelings about her goddamn lipstick. Glossy, ruby tease. Like a Christmas present with knotted ribbons. You could open it, but there was no putting it back under the tree, good as new. And, shit, I wanted to unwrap her.

We fell into a swift rhythm, walking side by side, and I swung her hand playfully between us. I watched her, and her eyes moved in a curious circle. To our joined hands with a brief grin which shifted into the most deliciously hungry expression, rolling slowly up my arm, my ink, and to my face. She was an unschooled master of the eye-fuck. Then, she would realize I was watching her, and her brow would scrunch, her eyes sharpen; grumbling, she would look away only to drift to our hands again. I should have been remorseful, but I couldn't. I should have cared she was irritated, I was irritating her, but I just fucking _couldn't_. Not with the way her angry gaze and puckered mouth made her so insanely adorable and sexy, oh, and were in direct communication with my cock. She was embarrassed because I caught her porn-worthy eyes, only not _actual_ porn-worthy, like dream porn-worthy, like if I could have a porn made of me and her and . . . this train of thought was not conducive to the _I wouldn't be responsible for making her look like a mess_ mantra. But here's the thing, I was eye-fucking her too. The only reason I caught her doing it was because I was doing it to distraction. I narrowly avoided a telephone pole a few steps back; so, she could be annoyed, and I would just want to fuck her more and smell her and, Jesus, I would be happy to just touch her all over, which would most likely lead to fucking her. Vicious cycle. Best Catch-22 ever.

Pulling out a cigarette, I offered her one, which she declined, and lit it with an apologetic look. She waved me off with a slight smile, informing me she didn't mind and would probably filch one later. She actually said 'filch,' and it was so fucking adorable. I directed us a couple more blocks to my intended destination, something I knew she would like or at least wouldn't hate. Figuring she would be happy with the club I'd chosen, I had not expected her to walk up to the doorman and punch his shoulder before jumping . . . no, hugging him. At first, it looked like an attack. God, she was irresistible. Seeing her jump into someone else's arms didn't make me jealous, but I wanted to drag her into a back room or onto a dark balcony or around the corner and claim her body again. It made me jealous as fuck, apparently. Not because I didn't want her touching someone else; I wasn't that kind of guy. Because I didn't ever want her to _stop_ touching me, letting me touch her.

I greeted the doorman by name, Sam, and it was her turn to look surprised. I paid for our cover, and thank the fucking lord, she didn't fight me on it. She smiled and said 'thank you' with a bright, glossy, crimson grin. And I think I fell in love with her right then, or maybe I already was because, damn, she was perfect. Not the prettiness of her and the soft and curves and confident glare. Well, all of those things, for fucking sure, but more and different. How she contorted her animated face into mysterious masks with no thought to the prettiness of them, wearing her emotions folded into her skin, but in a language I surely didn't know yet. How she contradicted her smooth, elegant body with hitched movements and clumsy steps, as if she didn't quite know what to do with such beauty and grace; I sure as hell didn't, but I was willing to try as many things as I could think of. How she was so fucking caustic, acid flowing from her sharp tongue (which I wasn't completely sure wasn't forked), and yet she didn't seem negative or hateful. I didn't know when I started finding _that_ attractive, but I would have wagered a guess around two months ago, shortly after 8:00 a.m.

Her hips swayed her through the door as I admired the heels on her feet and what they did for her legs. I heard Sam chuckle loudly, fist blocking his mouth, and I realized I hadn't moved. I flipped him off as I stubbed out my cigarette, started forward and muttered, "Shut the fuck up," evoking a bellowing guffaw from the asshole.

A few feet inside the door, she stood facing the stage; she glanced to the entryway and beckoned me with an infinitesimal flick of her hand. I made my way over to her, wrapping my hand around her waist and tilting my head to her hair. And, yes, I was fucking smelling it. Turning her head to me, she gave me a twinkling grin.

"This is -" we both started, both gesturing at the stage. My eyebrow mirrored her eyebrow in an inquisitive arch.

"What were you going to say?" If it was she or I doing the talking, I'd always choose her.

"This is Wills' band -"

"Last Man Jacks -"

"Yeah," she drew the word out, peering at me suspiciously.

"What?" I shrugged, smirking. "I listen to music too."

"It's just . . . . I've never - Why haven't I ever seen you at a show before?" She blurted and blushed.

"Well, I've only seen them a couple times, and not at all since my best friend took over for the old guitarist." I pointed at the tall blonde cat looking completely at home onstage. "That's him, Jas -"

"Jasper. I've met him a few times. Huh," she finished with a thoughtful tone.

"So then, I'm sure you've met Alice?"

"Yep. She sort of made friends with my roommate Rose. Why?" Instead of replying, I just stepped to the side, out of the way, as Alice approached.

"Bellaaa! I'm so fucking glad you're here." She spared me a glance, "Hey, Edward." I waved to the side of her face as her attention went right back to Bella. "Rose and I were just bitching about the excess of fucking beef baton in this place tonight; I need more goddamn estrogen." She grabbed Bella's hand, "Come the fuck on, no reason to stand around in the entrance. We're sitting over here."

Alice didn't bother to invite me or make sure I followed, but I sure as fuck did. No way I semi-abducted Bella out on an impromptu, somewhat forced, quasi-date just to lose her to Alice. It could happen in one split second of distraction. _Constant vigilance, Edward_. I approached the table last, Bella just leaning in to an imposing blonde with one arm sleeved in bright ink seated closest to me as Alice flung herself into the open chair on the other side of the table. The imposing blonde wore a similar bitchface to Bella's, but instead of being ridiculously fuckable, it was fucking frightening. The closer I got to Bella, the more menacing the angry blonde bird's face became; frankly, she looked cunty, and I was internally cringing at my shit luck while externally my balls were withdrawing back into my body. A reverse descension because she looked like a junk puncher, this one.

Then the strangest thing happened. My hand found the small of Bella's back because I would risk cracked marbles to touch her; Bella's eyes cut sheepishly to my face, chasing the most genuinely happy smile across her features, and _that_ was a language I understood. _And do what you will to me for it, Tattoo Barbie; it's _so_ worth it._ I peeked over to the scary woman across the table, and bitchface was gone! Curiosity, a challenge, some sass maybe, they were all there but no more meat grinding attachment for a Kitchenaid. _Luck, when I said 'Fuck you,' I didn't mean it. _

She smirked at me and redirected her attention to the girl standing next to me, who was standing because I was the douche who hadn't gotten her a chair yet. _JesusfuckingChrist, Edward_. I turned to an empty table nearby, and grabbed two chairs to pull back to our table. It was maybe thirty seconds, and I was never out of hearing distance; somehow when I turned back, the blonde looked smug, the midget with a trucker mouth looked excited - more than usual - and Bella looked a little bit self-conscious, a little bit embarrassed and a lot bashful, which was doing quite a bit for both her blood flow to the brain and my blood flow away from it.

"Edward, this is my roommate Rose . . . Rosalie." She introduced me, turning vermillion.

"Nice to meet you," I nodded, and she snorted. Rose _snorted_ at me. At least it felt like a friendly snort. And why the fuck was I analyzing a stranger's snort?

"Edward? Hmmm? No nicknames? That's sort of odd, isn't it?" She decided with an antagonistic tweak of her features.

And like the parting of the Red Sea, Bella's face went from flushed to ferocious.

"Oh Rose, I forgot to tell you today, you're a _HUGE_ whore." She defended me, cuter than a taxidermied kitten, and Rose cackled loudly, tossing her head back for a moment and whipping it forward sharply.

"Well, Eddie, good luck finding the key to her chastity belt; I'm pretty sure she accidentally left it on the key ring when she sold her car last year." At this, my jaw dropped, Alice brayed, Bella's cheeks bloomed again, her eyes darted every-fucking-where but Rose's face, and I got the distinct impression this was normal. But that normally, Bella would laugh louder than Alice when Rose said something like that about her; instead, her eyelashes fluttered anxiously, and the table top apparently became desperately interesting.

Rose's lips pressed together as she sucked in her cheeks with an appraising leer. She lifted herself from her chair and extended her hand out toward me. _Weird_. It was like she wanted to shake my hand. Had to be a trick. She stood frozen for a moment. Eventually she shook her head and reached for my hand. Before I could logically evaluate her actions, I flinched back. Because she was still a little fucking scary, and while I wouldn't hit a broad, protecting my ability to procreate was a necessary reaction. Without pausing, she grabbed my hand and shook it soundly.

"It seems I've underestimated you, Eddie. It's very nice to meet you. I believe thanks are in order." She smirked at Bella who blushed through a feline scowl.

"Um, you're welcome? Shouldn't I be directing that to Bella with a reciprocal 'thank you', though?" I flashed a smirk between them, Bella snorting through a smile, Rose's mouth dropping open in amusement.

"You're spunky, Eddie. I like it," she said, smacking her hand against my chest with a stinging thwack. "I'll have a Guinness, since you offered," _I didn't_. "Alice, do you want another drink? Eddie's buying."

"Oh, um, yeah, just get me what-the-fuck-ever," her face twisted with devious amusement. "You know what I like, _Eddie_," she giggled wickedly, and I knew it would be a painfully long time before she let that shit rest.

I asked for Bella's order, insisting she stay at the table when she stood up. Eventually, her pigheadedness won out, and I dragged her playfully to the bar, lifting her onto a barstool and tickling her ribs mercilessly. Anything to touch her, really. She tilted her head into me, gently pressing her sticky, sultry lips against my neck, and when she pulled away I wanted to hitch her over my shoulder and take her somewhere private, or just less public. I settled for the satisfaction of knowing a glossy, cherry brand staked her claim on my skin.

We carried the round back to the table, relaxing into our seats, just as the band played the last few notes of a song. I watched her with bemusement as she wolf-whistled and screamed, clapping her hands loudly. The lead singer started addressing the crowd, thanking everyone for showing up, and I watched her face. Her eyelashes fluttered and her cheeks dimpled and her lips quirked. She leaned into her chair, laughing at the lead singer as he joked on stage. Her fingers fidgeted, adjusting the bra at her ribs, as she wiggled slightly. I groaned as her tits shifted in vibrating shimmies under the thin conforming fabric of her dress. _Fuck me._ She was such a contrast, uncomfortable yet comfortable, pretty sweetness swirled with an irascible fire like a double flavored corkscrew of soft serve on a cone. I was completely in love with this curious, often hostile almost-stranger. I barely knew her. I was completely fucked.

Vaguely I heard the singer continue to talk, mentioning some of the songs they were planning to play, while she held my attention with the bright eyes and easy smiles she gave freely to the table, the room. As he mentioned doing a song which wasn't a regular for them because of some shit to do with instruments and singers, her eyes became suspicious and beady, her lips pursing dubiously. Suddenly she was a bundle of restlessness, teeth chewing fingernails, and eyes shifting nervously every fucking which way.

She turned to me with a relieved gleam in her eye, as if she had tinkered out the solution to a harrowing dilemma in her head, and asked with exceptional speed, words tumbling, "Can I have that cigarette now? Let's go take a smoke break, yeah? I mean, out back where we can smoke?" The anxious lift in her voice made everything into a question, and I tried not to grin ridiculously at her, because I realized it was really fucking bad form for me to find her so irresistibly fuckable when she was obviously uncomfortable. Even though I _really_ did.

"Sure, Bit," I nodded slightly, and she was dragging me from my chair before I could try to stand. Weaving through the tables and people, glancing anxiously behind her, she tugged me to the back of the room, through a swinging door, past a stairwell and out the heavy steel fire door which was propped open. That surely wasn't fucking fitting with fire code.

Her fidgeting fingers with stubby, bitten, red-flecked nails dug hungrily in my pocket as I leaned back into the cool cement wall. I swatted at her hand, throwing her a teasing smile. "Hey now, fiend! You'll get your fix, but I might need something in return."

"Oh, is that so? Well, Mr. Masen," _holy fuck, _she just said that. "What could I possibly have that you would want?" Her palms were flat against my chest, and her tits were flat against her hands as she leaned into me, tilting her chin up and to the side, exposing her milky white neck. Even though I knew it was an act, the confused, vapid expression, all swimming eyes and batting lashes, made my dick stiffen, and my thoughts fucking cease.

_Goddamn that fucking lipstick. Goddamn it straight to Hell. _

Trying to clear the haze in my head, I rooted the pack out of my pocket with one hand while I stroked the dewy soft skin of her arm. As I grumbled to myself about the under-appreciated virtue of self-control, telling my dick to give it a try sometime, I spun her around and pulled her into me, my arm around her waist forcing her to lean against me as I relaxed against the wall. With a flip of my free wrist, I shook a couple of cigarettes from the pack, pulling them both out with my lips. Trading the pack for the lighter in my pocket, I lit them both and took one between my fingers. I slid my open hand from the joint of her jaw, just in front of her ear, lightly to her chin, holding the filter millimeters from her lips.

I was pretty fucking sure it was intentional when her lips brushed across my fingers as they surrounded the little white cylinder, when she pressed them against my skin firmly.

Maybe we didn't have to stay any longer.

We didn't even _have_ to leave. I eyed the quiet parking lot we were standing in thoughtfully as I pushed my hips against her ass, pulled her ass against me. She rolled her hips into me, and I saw the hint of a grin as her plump cheek lifted, her pretty fingers lifting the cigarette from her lips with her drag of breath.

_I could fuck her here. Right?_

She seemed somewhat interested in the overzealous, hard cock I pressed into her back.

_She would know how much I wanted her if I fucked her here, now. Right?_

_No._

_No, no, fuck no_.

I needed to maintain an iota of respect for her if I ever wanted her to really understand when I fucked her, it was to feel _her_ heartbeat pulse out of control, _her_ breath catch with pleasure, not mine.

I pressed the stain of red on my fingers into my own lips as I pulled the butt from my teeth, smiling at the faint smell of her mouth lingering on my skin. I tried to calm down my very overly-excited cock, leaning into her hair, her neck, inhaling a deep, spicy breath and drawing an easy smile against the glossy bay locks.

A soft, contented sigh rose in her chest and fell from her lips, and I was stupidly fucking happy to think I might have something to do with her ease. I wanted to ask her a thousand questions, maybe more, know every little detail I could learn and memorize and fantasize about. But I didn't. She had been so fucking jumpy, and honestly, she usually seemed to take offense at my most innocuous statements. A warm, smooth arm settled to rest over mine around her waist, and I was fucking sure I wanted to keep my mouth clamped shut. For now, I wanted just this. This comfortable, quiet silence. Even if I was still desperate to bend her over the closest car and shove my dick into her tight, wet heat. Or maybe, against the wall.

Definitely against the wall.

Long after we had both flicked our filters onto the pavement, as I hummed quietly into her neck, she turned her warm body to face mine, nuzzling against my chest. She wove her fingers within mine and leaned back to drag me reluctantly from my private perch, back to the room full of people who were not simply Bella and me. Her impish eyes smiled knowingly with the sexy fucking curve of her lips as I grunted my objection half-heartedly, because she could drag me to Hades, and I'd fucking follow.

Instead of towing me past the stairwell, back to the crowd echoing its jovial, raucous din in waves toward us, she ducked quickly through the door under the stairs. I stopped just inside the darkened hallway as Bella turned to close the door behind us.

"Where the fuck are we?" I hissed a whisper. I didn't know why; it just seemed like a fucking good idea to be stealthy.

She giggled deliciously at me and stage whispered back, "A hallway."

She was teasing me. And she was fucking sexy as hell.

I could feel a dark haze of lust wash my vision and weight my eyelids, and hers registered the shift too as she pushed me back into the wall roughly. I closed my eyes, trying my damnedest to regain some composure, and my dick screamed at me to_ fucking fuck her right the fuck now. _I was having a truly difficult time resisting the little brain. All at once, I felt the curved edges of her hips, the tight stretch of her abdomen, the indulgent, fleshy cushion of her tits pressing against my already electrified body.

And her hands. Her _fucking_ hands.

They tickled up my arms, tracing artwork to my shoulders, and slid purposefully over my chest, flicking playfully at the steel in my nipples through my shirt. Her warm, sensuous body lowered in the path of her hands, making way for their reconnaissance. My fingers skimmed lightly along her back with her descent and settled on her neck, under her hair.

I tilted my head back, eyes closed and jaw slackened as her arms reached above her, pads of fingers rubbing circles into my abdomen, teasing out across my hipbones. When I felt a tug at my belt buckle and a loosening around my waist, my eyes popped open. I hadn't realized until her hands started working at my jeans that she was on her knees in front of me. _Holyfuck_.

"Shit, Bella, I don't want - I mean . . ." I pulled gently at the hair threaded through my fingers, willing her to get off the damn cold, hard floor.

Totally ignoring my prodding, she continued unzipping my jeans, shoved her hands inside my underwear and gripped my raging hard cock. _Shitfuck_.

"You don't want?" she asked with incredulity as she smirked up at me under fluttering eyelashes, pumped her hand up and down my shaft. I groaned; she giggled then, taking me out of my boxer briefs, shoving them down my hips.

I watched her as she watched her hand working over me with fascination. It was her and it was hot as hell, and it felt so fucking good. Her fingers came up again, her thumb tracing over the wetness at the tip of my dick, and without removing her hand, she leaned forward to wrap those glossy crimson lips around her thumb, sucking hard, leaving a red ring close to her hand, releasing with a pop. Indistinguishable fucking nonsense escaped me on a deep raspy breath, and her slick, wet tongue darted out to lick across my throbbing head. _Jesusfuck! _

She tipped her chin up, lower lip jutting in a mock pout contrasted by the challenge in her arched eyebrow. "You don't want?" she asked, exaggerated disappointment turning the corners of her lips down adorably.

"Mother of fuck . . ." I muttered disjointedly. "Of course I fucking want . . . shit, Bella, I just don't want . . ." _Well, that cleared up all the fucking confusion for her, Eddie; way to explain those feelings!_ I grunted in frustration, stroking her hair unconsciously. Goddammit, I was fucking petting her while she kneeled on this fucking uncomfortable, dirty floor in front of me.

I continued to stutter, trying to articulate any thought fucking possible at this point, as she swirled her tongue around my head teasingly, watching me under thick velvet lashes with those fiery golden-brown eyes swimming with ferocity and amusement. Eventually, she relented the pleasurable torture, her plump candy-apple lips breaking into a sly, satisfied grin.

"_I_ _want _your cock in my mouth, Edward." She emphasized her words by pumping her hand in a steady rhythm. I knew my jaw was hanging open like a fucking idiot. I knew she was actually making a request, even though it sounded like a demand. I knew I was supposed to say something, anything. I knew she was waiting.

All I could think about was how much I was in love with her, even though I was crazy for it.

How beautiful she was on her knees for me.

How she was the physical realization of my dream girl.

How I _really_ wanted to fuck her mouth.

With the curious quirk of her brow, I realized some of that, if not all of that, had been audible.

But then she leaned forward again, and I couldn't give a fuck about the uncontrolled babble falling straight out of my brain by way of my loose lips. Instead, I laced my fingers tighter in her hair and communicated what I wanted with a gentle pull.

I felt her tongue sliding along the underside of my dick as she moved further and further toward my pubic bone. When my head hit the back of her throat, a rumbling moan escaped me, and her lips closed precisely around the base of my cock, constricting tightly, causing me to harden even more. She relaxed the tension slightly and slid her hot, wet mouth along my length, hollowing her cheeks, sucking.

"Fuck . . . mmphff . . . shit . . . Bella . . ." I guided her head as she continued to thrust her mouth down over me and suck back up my length. Okay, I didn't exactly guide; I gripped her silky hair desperately in an attempt not to buck my hips into her face and choke her with my dick.

Her warm fingers pushed into my muscles, wrapping my hip as she gripped hard for stability, her other hand groping and then teasing my balls, tickling the sensitive skin. I sputtered gasps and breaths, shortened by the heat and need and pressure building in my gut. My heart felt like it was going to crack my fucking ribs, it beat so violently inside my chest, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I leaned my head back against the wall, just feeling nothing but my breath, my heart and her beautiful, warm mouth, slicking along me quickly, goading my hips.

I hastily removed one of my hands from her hair, smacking the cold cement wall with a stinging slap, hoping to anchor myself to the unrelenting cinderblock. I searched for purchase with the pads of my fingers, the minute restraint it offered disappearing as her mouth came down over me, fast and hard. At the same time, my dick hit the back of her throat again, my hips pumped without my permission, and I whimpered my frustration with my uncontrolled body. I glanced down apologetically to narrowed, suspicious eyes above the most erotic fucking thing I'd ever seen. Her mouth on me. The ghost of her once-laquered lips imprinted around my cock. _Fuck_.

She pulled back, sucking hard until her lips caught on my head and released me with a popping, suction sound. "Edward," she growled as her eyes flashed with wanton fire. A shudder vibrated up my body and electrified my nerves, my skin. "I _want_ you to fuck my mouth."

"Bella, I-"

"Fuck my mouth, Edward." She enunciated each word, ferociously quiet, unwavering, sure gaze.

That was it. No more cement wall. No more self control. No breathing. No heartbeat.

Just her mouth on me, my hips thrusting as she gripped my thighs and groaned around my hard, desperate need.

She molded her mouth around my length and met my now desperate, erratic bucks by plunging forward with each pump of my hips. She moaned and whimpered, and I worried for a split second something was wrong. When my eyes found hers and clear, raw lust was written allover her face, painting her cheeks a lively pink, flashing her eyes with bright sparks of gold fire, I let go.

"Oh . . . Bella, fuck!" was all I managed as a warning with my last two thrusts. The burn migrating from my limbs balled tightly into a combustible ache in my abdomen, hips and thighs, and exploded out of me with incredible force.

She held my throbbing cock buried deep in her mouth. My release pulsed hot and hard into her throat as she swallowed in forceful, quick gulps. For a moment, my whole body disintegrated, shattered and fell away, enervated by one small part of this astounding girl, every fucking part of her.

Slowly, my muscles relaxed, and my body became mine again; my knees wavered, and my fingers shook as I pulled them through her smooth, chestnut hair. I rubbed small circles on her scalp, petting her, but I didn't care. Apparently, she didn't either, and she hummed, eyes rolling closed, as she pulled her mouth slowly off my cock, swirling her tongue delicately around my head last. _Fucking perfect_.

"Oh God," I rasped almost inaudibly, grasping her upper arms. She giggled lightheartedly as I pulled her hastily off the floor. I couldn't help the growl against her lips as I crashed into them. She was gorgeous and funny and sultry and bitchy, and she tasted spicy and delicious and like me, and I was fucking sure, now, she wanted me _almost_ as much as I wanted her. I kissed her hard; my tongue found hers forcefully and evoked the most lurid, cock-twitching feminine sounds from her chest.

She kissed me back with equal passion, fingers wrapping around my neck as her body pressed flush against mine. Without missing a beat, I was thinking about turning our bodies around so I could pin her against the wall, push my dick into her. I had to get a hold of myself, or we would end up locked in the damn bar when they closed. Besides, no matter how eager my horny fucking thoughts were, I wasn't that fast; I needed at least a few minutes of recovery time, especially after the full-body orgasm she'd just gifted me.

Lazily, she softened our kisses, drawing them out in languid licks, nips and pecks. Her talented lips hovered warmly over my ear, sending a smooth buzz into my skin, and she licked lightly at my earlobe before whispering, "I'm going to the Ladies' Room. Why don't you visit the Little Boys', and we'll meet back at the table before our friends send a search party."

I chuckled at the thought of Rose and Alice discovering me with my dick hanging out of my pants, because it sure as fuck still was, and I inhaled her, cinnamon and cardamom and clove, and kissed her cheek lightly, just catching her as she shifted away to sway down the hall. As much as I wanted to locate a sleeping bag and hold her hostage, we were in a bar, in a hallway. I slumped against the wall, not quite ready to relinquish my perch in my new favorite hallway. I was going to miss this hallway; maybe we should make this a regular occurrence and visit this hallway weekly.

My chest swelled with demented elation as I looked down to tuck myself back into my pants. It was probably all kinds of creepy and just fucking weird, but the residual red echo around the base of my cock made me shiver with a deep, visceral need. It was sexual, but not simply that. It was combined with an intrinsic, fundamental ache. An ache I'd experienced since the first time I laid eyes on her two months ago. It was her mark on me, a reminder of everything she did for me, to me, physically and emotionally; I felt branded, claimed, like the sticky red imprint on my neck from earlier sitting at the bar, and I never wanted to wash it off.

Shaking my head at myself, I adjusted my pants and steered my feet toward the bathroom. I leaned over the sink, splashed cold water on my face, careful to preserve the lacquer below my ear, and reached for paper towels which were fucking nonexistent. I watched water roll in little beads down my reflection as my gaze settled on my own eyes. They were brighter green than I could ever remember seeing them, and my skin was flushed and fucking rosy like a winded little boy fresh from playing in snow. I wanted to be pre-embarrassed for what I knew Alice and, most likely, Rose would recognize in a second, but I couldn't.

My feelings for Bella had exceeded embarrassment. I would admit anything humiliating about myself if it meant the difference between her being mine and not, even that I hurled after my right nipple was pierced. I still maintained it was the excess of whiskey, not a weak stomach; I puked and rallied for the left nipple anyway.

I chafed my hands briskly over my face a few times to remove excess water then pressed my damp palms into my denim covered thighs. After taking a few deep breaths, I felt calm enough to brave the potential inquisition from the trash-talking munchkin and her new scary blonde sidekick. It would all depend on how generous Alice was feeling and probably me picking up her goddamn tab.

My eyes were instantly scanning the crowd for our table, more specifically Bella, as I pushed past the door and shoved my way, as politely as possible, through the mass of bodies. When I found the table, I was pleased to see Angela had decided to join us and was chatting amiably with the other two, watching the stage excitedly. While I continued to search the room for Bella, becoming more anxious when I didn't see her at the bar either, the curious music coming from the stage filtered into my quickly panicking consciousness.

Perfunctorily, I recognized a violin playing and assumed this was the song the lead singer was going on about earlier. A violinist would be trickier to find than your average band musician, lucky for them Jasper was a strangely eclectic and talented fellow. Having no more thought available to expend thinking about the music while I still had no idea where the fuck Bella was, I dismissed it and turned to the table.

"Hi Angela," I held up a hand momentarily in a stagnant wave before looking at them each in turn. "Did Bella ever come back from the Ladies'?" I could feel the worry in my eyes betraying the ease I struggled to overlay smoothly into my tone, but I was about two seconds from violating the Ladies' Room in a crazed search.

Faster than I could take in each of their expressions, they were all smirk-grinning at me. Alice did a tiny bounce on her seat, nodding emphatically. Rose just quirked a brow, and Angela's smile softened, her eyes darting past me to watch the stage.

"I had no fucking idea she had that in her; granted, it took a shitton of motherfucking coercion!" Alice's hands gestured wildly, exaggerating her already comical expression and rambunctious words.

I was still confused as fuck, and I looked to Rose, who laughed lightly, tossing her head back, and Angela, who pointed hesitantly at the stage. My eyes followed her gesture in what felt like slow motion as I realized a female voice complimented the uncharacteristic song the band played. How in Hell had I missed that before?

Her eyes were closed tightly, her knuckles white with her death-grip, one hand clenching the mic, the other squeezing the stand. Her feet were crossed at the ankle, right over left, as she stood; the right coming up to rub the side of her sexy-as-fuck high-heeled shoe smoothly over the outside of her lower calf when certain notes and words rolled off her tongue. It was clear she was really nervous, the flush I was sure washed her whole body speaking volumes about her embarrassment. And even though it was really shitty of me to enjoy her discomfort, I couldn't stop myself. She was so beautiful under those stark stage lights; the bright colors in her skin seemed to glow. I wanted to memorize every contour of ink with my touch, my tongue. I chose to believe the confidence in her tone, the apparent pleasure in the rich sounds escaping with the rise and fall of her chest.

A firm hand wrapped around my wrist, simultaneously pulling me out of my awestruck stupor and into a hard wooden chair. "Why don't you sit down and relax, Eddie, close your mouth and tame your trouser-snake," Rose purred, throwing a suggestive look at my lap, taunting wickedly.

I couldn't care. I barely noticed.

Now that I saw her, heard her, I couldn't see or hear anything else. Her voice wasn't perfect, but it was rich and sultry and hypnotic. And it was _her_. It sounded like she smelled, the full, seductive roughness of autumn spices and brown sugar.

After she was a few lines further into the song, she relaxed slightly. I was sure she might even be able to feel her fingertips again. And then, just as she sang a line about devils dreaming of a blue angel, the corners of her mouth tucked barely into her cheeks with a tiny enigmatic smile, her eyes opened, and behind those sleepy, heavy eyelids, she was already looking directly at me.

Her eyes were swimming with bashfulness and mirth and joy and sensuality all at once, and they were glittering gold and amber, like this huge Citrine ring my grandma used to wear. I was sure it was a trick of the spotlights shining down on her because no one's eyes could seem so transparent and clear, yet so bottomless at the same time.

I couldn't look away from her eyes and she didn't break my gaze.

As her eyes held mine, I watched her discomfort disintegrating. Replacing it was a confident, teasing demeanor directed solely at me. When she winked at me, I couldn't help leering at her like I wanted to devour her.

Because I did.

Want to devour her.

I fought the urge to tear her from the stage and run to the closest private bedroom at our disposal. She was too beautiful to watch for me to do anything like that.

Toward the end, she started to swing her hips from side to side with the music, watching me the whole time, and Rose's finger pushed my chin up to close my mouth with a snap of my teeth. Bella almost giggled then; the vibration came through in her voice, and I groaned out loud, remembering what that vibration felt like when her mouth was on me. Suddenly, I wondered if she would enjoy it as much as I did and it was my new mission to find out. As soon as possible.

When she was done singing, I clapped but not nearly enough. I was still entirely too stunned to cheer appropriately.

She turned abashedly to the other musicians, her back to the bar; they were all talking to her, cajoling with big goofy grins on their faces. I couldn't blame them, she was fucking adorable and apparently had that affect on everyone. Finally, she fluttered her hands in an acquiescent gesture and turned back to the house. She took an awkwardly giggling curtsy, blushing all over again, and stumbled slightly in her rush to get off the stage and out of the spotlight.

I think I might have purred. Jesus fucking Christ. I did. I purred when she walked right past the rest of the table without a glance and came straight to me. She stood in front of me with a challenge on her face, but her eyes were fucking begging. Without surrendering any of her control, because there was no goddamn doubt she held it all, she lowered herself onto my lap.

Her eyebrow shot up quizzically as her body leaned in so close to mine I shivered with her heat. Her ass shifted intentionally against my hard cock, and her lips grazed my ear as she whispered, "You seem to be having a problem in your pants, Edward."

She pulled away, smirking and shifting her hips again as I growled at her. I saw the pleasure flare in her eyes, burning with wicked enjoyment, and then she was seemingly ignoring me. Laughing at whispered comments with Rose, blushing when Alice gushed compliments laced excessively with the word 'fuck' all over her, smiling openly as Angela told her about her evening class.

And all the fucking while she was discreetly dry-humping my painfully throbbing dick in a disjointed rhythm.

After a few minutes of the best torture ever and self control I didn't know I possessed -- she was wearing a motherfucking dress for shit's sake, it wouldn't take much work to fuck her on my lap -- I couldn't take it anymore. We were either leaving, or I _would_ fuck her right here. In front of her friends.

Leaning to her and exhaling a warm breath over her ear, I grabbed her hips and pulled them down hard against me. Her own breath huffed out with a quiet moan, and I bit the soft lobe of her ear, feeling the bite of metal rings against my tongue.

She panted as I rasped a whisper into her ear.

"Say 'good bye', Bit. I'm taking you home." She shuddered; I growled, "_Now_."

* * *

**a/n (the second): I hope you liked this, but mostly I hope mrstwister712 loved it. I wrote this for her after she so graciously bought me for FGB and asked for more Bit & Suit. As a fandom, we were amazing with what we accomplished for Alex's Lemonade.**

**This is the **_**beginning**_** of a continuation; there will be more.**

**These characters belong to SM, but I'd like to think it's mostly in name. These kids feel like mine. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**I am contributing to MsKathy's Haiti relief effort by both donating $5 to the charity of my choice supporting Haiti relief and offering to write something for her compilation of oneshots. If you donate and email your receipt to MsKathy, you'll get all of the wonderfulness authors are contributing. You have until 1/24 to donate and get the goodies in your box and you can visit her blog to get all the info: **_**http://mskathyff . blogspot . com/2010/01/haiti . html **_**(take out the spaces, of course.)**

**Finally, thank you to my girls who pre-read this for me, ilsuocantante, WindyCityWonder & Melissa228, who make me less crazy and keep my finger away from the delete button, and oodles of thanks, always, to my wonderful beta Viola Cornuta -- you've given me so much encouragement with Bit & Suit.**

**Let me know what you think of Edward's POV :)  
**


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